


Evening Special

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Documentaries, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Netflix and Chill, TV in bed, With a little help from the team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6326332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unbeknownst to them, the team has a vested interest in Fitz and Simmons spending all their evenings watching TV in bed together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4,000 Miles on the Amazon

**Author's Note:**

> Eternally grateful to agentcalliope for beta-reading yet another one.

  


"The Amazon? The _Amazon rainforest_ Amazon?" Fitz felt compelled to double-check. Somehow, he'd imagined topless female warriors were closer to Hunter's interests.

"Yeah! I'm telling you, mate, it's great. Really makes you think about nature preservation, global warming and stuff. Hey, maybe you should watch it with Simmons? I'm pretty sure she would be into it too."

"Mmh," Fitz tilted his head and rubbed his jaw pensively. "Y'know what? That's not a bad idea, actually. I'll ask her."

****

"Since when do you watch _documentaries_? Or care about anything that doesn't have a motor or a bullet chamber?" Daisy asked the moment Fitz had departed.

"I fell asleep on the remote once. Must have rolled over it or something," Hunter grinned as he took off the top of his beer bottle. "I've never seen anything so boring in my _life_ so that should do the trick. Hell knows I'm sick of them giving me second hand blue balls all the time."

"Thanks _a lot_ for that mental image," Daisy grimaced, before her eyes widened with a new idea. "Ooh! Do you want to make it interesting?"

"Always," he answered with a smirk. "What are the parameters?"

"It's simple: we take turn recommending them some quality couple watching: films, TV, whatever. The one that gets them to seal the deal, wins the bet. And saves us all from the stray pheromones."

"I'm in," May announced, making both Daisy and Hunter, who hadn't heard her enter the kitchen, jump and swear in unison.

"Ohmigod‒"

"‒fuck's sake‒"

" _Amateurs_ ," May stated smugly, grabbing a pair of beers before departing the room without a backward glance.

***

Fitz stood awkwardly by Jemma's door, a tray carrying drinks and crisps in his hands. He didn't know what to do with it‒ heck, he didn't even know what to do with _himself_.

In addition, he felt a bit foolish staying in his shirt and tie when Jemma, he noticed, had changed into a pair of yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt. Still fresh-faced and peppy, she looked more radiant to him than she had in a long, long time.

When had he gotten so bloody awkward around her? It would hardly be the first time they spent the evening watching TV together. For many years, it had been the very definition of a non-event, the default plan they fell back on by unspoken agreement when nothing better came along ‒which, in Fitz's case, was all of the time.

Professionally, they were in a good place again, seamlessly bouncing ideas and expending on one another's theories and intuitions the way they always had. It felt good ‒exhilarating, even. But outside the lab, the balance between them was all askew and he had no idea how to maneuver this strange limbo: not quite just friends, yet still far from the edge of romance.

Months had passed since their first and only kiss and although they had never properly discussed it, the memory still coloured many of their interactions. For instance, lying next to her on the bed without her prompting, something he'd done countless times before, now felt a little presumptuous on his part.

"Should I‒?" He nodded toward the desk chair.

"Don't be silly," Jemma grinned, patting the space next to her, on top of the bedspread.

"Alright," he smiled shyly, and set the tray on the nightstand before climbing by her side.

"I can't believe Hunter, of all people, suggested we watched this. Do you think he has hidden depths?" She joked, leaning against him to reach for the snacks. His heart jumped as they made contact and kept careening wildly even after she'd retreated to her side of the bed.

"Hunter? Seems unlikely," he shrugged with a half-smile, focusing on not acting a fool.

If only she'd stated more precisely what she meant by 'starting over'. At times, he came close from resenting how impervious she appeared to be in situations like these, when in contrast he felt very much like the cartoon puppy Ward had mockingly described him to be.

It _did_ feel a lot like the beginning of their friendship, actually, when she'd had no earthly idea he was so enamoured with her. But that was not the case anymore, was it? Fitz often replayed their conversation in his head, searching for clues as to what she expected from him. Was he supposed to just‒ _do_ _something_? He was not one for brute seduction. Not that he wouldn't be up for _some_ of that, eventually, but‒

A tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and he found Jemma was looking at him expectantly.

"Shall we?" She asked, waving the remote in front of his eyes.

"There better be monkeys," he grumbled, for the principle of the thing.

"Fitz!" she smiled indulgently, "there are _so many_ species of monkeys in the Amazon they haven't been all discovered yet."

"In that case," he said, forcing his previous thread of thoughts out of his mind, "what are we waiting for?"

 

_30 minutes later_

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma sighed, enraptured, as she watched a large congregation of macaws soaring elegantly across the Peruvian sky. "This is amazing," she whispered, grabbing his hand without a second thought.

"Yeah, it is," he concurred, his eyes intent on their now entwined fingers. Frankly, he had no idea what she was talking about. He _had_ tried paying attention to the documentary at first, but had been confronted with a multitude of distractions, most notably the way her t-shirt's neckline kept slipping down, baring her shoulder and exposing her bra strap, or the way she licked the salt off her lips after each crisp.

Moments later, Jemma turned to him and smiled, a wide, bright smile that showed all of her teeth and looked so genuine he couldn't help but mirror it immediately. She scooted a little closer and rested her head against his shoulder, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, sending warmth radiating from her body to his. He breathed in the floral scent of her shampoo and resumed pretending to pay attention to the screen when all his attention was fixated on her.

He was very disappointed when, too soon, the credits started rolling.

"That was fascinating," Jemma said happily, stretching her arms above her head. "You'll thank Hunter for me, won't you?"

"Sure," Fitz promised distractedly, busy as he was raking his mind for a reason that would justify postponing taking his leave. As he did, Jemma emitted a rather loud yawn that made him smirk fondly in response.

"I guess I should get going," he said, rising to his feet.

"Let's do this again soon, okay?"

"Mmh, I'll have to check my schedule. I lead an enlivened social life, you see."

"Goodnight, Fitz," Jemma smiled broadly again, and went on her tiptoe to press a kiss right at the corner of his mouth.

"Night, Jemma," he replied, savoring the burn of her kiss.

***

[Hunter:] So what do I win?

[Daisy:] You don't. They watched the movie and he went back to his bunk.

[Hunter:] They watched it? ALL of it?

[Daisy:] Think so.

[Hunter:] I give up. The nerds are hopeless.

[Daisy:] Never fear, my romantically challenged friend.  
Tomorrow's my turn. Just relax and watch me win that mother.


	2. Naked and afraid

"Oh, Daisy, I don't know," Jemma scrunched up her nose. "I'm not much of a reality television fan."

"Believe me, you'll like this one," Daisy affirmed confidently. "It's not a dating show or anything like that, I swear. It's all about the adventure! And look," she continued, holding up her phone which displayed a Wikipedia page, "The Guardian voted it 'best reality show on television'. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Oh, well," Jemma replied, with one last suspicious look to the screen, "I suppose it doesn't hurt to try."  
  


" _Naked and afraid?_ That's a little too much foreshadowing for comfort," Hunter smirked.

"Beats 'fully clothed and chronically lonely', if you ask me," Daisy replied with a shrug.

"You sure he's gonna go for it, too?" He asked, his tone both amused and dubious, as the two of them joined Bobbi and Mack in the break room.

"Oh _come on_ ," Daisy rolled her eyes. "If she asked him over to watch late night reruns on C-SPAN, he'd be up for it."

Seeing that Hunter had no counter-argument, Daisy dropped herself on the couch with a contented smile.

"Which one of our friends are we mocking behind their backs?" Bobbi asked with an exaggeratedly stern frown, before hooking her arm around Hunter's shoulder.

"We're playing Save the Geeks, one idiot box session at a time," he supplied unhelpfully.

"The goal is to get Fitz and Simmons to do the no pants dance," Daisy provided in a phony whisper. "Also, to bring the sexual tension around these parts down a notch. You know, for the sake of the community."

"See? It's practically an humanitarian mission," Hunter grinned, glancing alternately toward Mack and Bobbi. "You in?"

"Okay," Mack shrugged, seemingly unimpressed with the task at hand. All eyes turned to Bobbi, who was shaking her head slightly.

"Is there something to win?" She finally asked in a long-suffering sigh, to which Daisy replied with a toothy smile and a few excited claps. 

***

Whereas it didn't come as much of a shock to observe that Daisy's taste in television sometimes veered to the crass, Jemma could barely contain a pout of distaste.

For the most part, the program consisted of a pair of moderately attractive, entirely devoid of common sense, stark naked Americans ‒a man and a woman‒ sharing awkward banter as they competed to find the most revolting form of nutrition available to them in the abundant wilderness. Within a few minutes, Jemma found her attention wandering away from the inane spectacle before her and back to the man sitting next to her.

Fitz seemed to be enjoying watching the so-called _survivalists_ slap bugs off themselves and inspect their bare bodies with increasing trepidation. Keeping ticks a safe distance away from sensitive areas was, apparently, a preeminent concern.

When the male contestant let out a high-pitched shriek, scratching madly at what turned out to be a fleck of dirt caked to his inner thigh, Fitz started what could only be described as a string of giggles. Startled, Jemma couldn't help but join him. His expression of hilarity was riveting; all his teeth were showing and he looked much younger somehow. If it weren't for the scruff and the slightly fuller cheeks, he would have looked confoundingly like the bashful engineer who had brightened and disrupted her life when they were both in the midst of teenagehood.

Fitz turned to her and held her stare, surprised, no doubt, to find her gazing at him with such candid fondness. Jemma was suddenly seized with the urge to kiss him senseless and test the rasp of his bristled cheeks under her fingers, but starting over meant respecting his reservation and boundaries as if they were her own.

Although he hadn't formally rejected her feeble attempts at becoming closer, Fitz certainly hadn't initiated anything on his hand. They had agreed to start fresh without specifying which direction the relationship was heading, which now appeared to be a stinging mistake. All that second-guessing was turning her into a nervous wreck.

Jemma forced a sweet smile and made a conscious effort to tear her eyes away, just in time to witness the female adventurer lament at great length the current state of her hair.  
  


"Do you want to watch another one?" Jemma asked after the first episode ended. She had no intention of paying attention for even a moment, but was intent on stalling her companion's departure.

"Okay," he agreed right away. "It's pretty funny."

As they settled to watch the second installment, Jemma let out a long shiver, attributable to tiredness rather than cold. As much as she enjoyed working to her full potential again, she was still adjusting to yet another drastic change of routine.

"Erm, do you want to get under the covers?" He asked timidly, a frown creasing his forehead.

"Yes please," she answered with a grateful smile, and both got to their feet to turn the covers.

Jemma made herself comfortable under her thick duvet, realizing too late he meant to remain on top, keeping a literal security blanket between the two of them. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. At least he'd changed into comfortable lounge wear tonight, instead of showing up still in his button-down shirt and slacks.

"If memory serves," she said, the sharpness of her look contradicted by the apparent innocence of her voice, "you weren't always this modest. I seem to recall a time when you literally fell asleep on top of me and drooled right through my shirt."

"It served you right," he replied with mock vindication. "You worked me like a bondservant for those finals."

"It was all for your own good, as you well know," she countered with amused sententiousness.

Their eyes locked once more and something passed between them, part defiance, part yearning. Fitz made a show of rising to his feet before settling down again, this time under the cover next to her, although he remained half seated while she was fully stretched out.

Seizing her courage, Jemma scooted closer and rested her cheek on his chest. She was half expecting him to recoil and was greatly relieved when he didn't, for she found the heat of his body and the regular thump of his heart immensely soothing. A flutter of pleasure coursed through her when she felt the weight of his hand on her head as his fingers started combing her hair.  
  


Jemma was roused by the unpleasant feeling of her head was being dislodged from the warm pillow it had been snugly resting on. Confused and disoriented ‒the room was dark except for the light of the TV screen‒ she gripped the hand she immediately recognized as Fitz.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What are you doing?" She asked drowsily, rubbing her eyes. "Come back to bed."

"I'm going to my bunk," he said softly, disentangling his hand from hers. "Night, Jemma."

"Good night, Fitz," she said wistfully. Moments later, she was sleeping soundly again.

***

[Daisy:] Damnit, nerds!

[Hunter:] Next time, pick Virgin Territory. Would be right up their alley, I reckon.

[Bobbi:] Whose turn is it next?

[Mack:] Mine, I think?

[Daisy:] Do your worst, Beefcake!


	3. Raiders of the Lost Ark

"Ooh," Jemma cooed, staring at the Blu-ray sleeve Mack was showing her. "I _loved_ that movie so much when I was a girl. Did I ever tell you," she grinned, addressing Fitz, "how badly I wanted to be an archeologist when I grew up? That was all this man's doing."

"Do you want to borrow it?" Mack suggested innocently. "I can make do without for a night."

"You wouldn't mind?" Jemma beamed at Mack before turning to Fitz again. "What do you say, Fitz? Do you want to have a classic movie night?"

 

" _Raiders?_  That's what you're going for?" Hunter asked with a disbelieving smirk. "Did you scratch your Wizard of Oz DVD or something?"

"It's a classic movie. Solid. Dependable. Although…" Mack trailed, "It might not be _exactly_ the movie Simmons remembers."

Daisy gasped, pointing a finger at Mack

"I know what you're doing!" She whisper-shouted before raising her hand for a high five, which Mack delivered easily. "Hey, that's pretty smart for a muscle mountain."

"What are you two talking about?" Hunter asked in confusion, his eyes darting from one to the other.

"Don't worry," Bobbi grinned, patting his back, "I'll explain later."

***

Jemma was fuming.

Even propped on her bed in sensible sleepwear and the comforter up to her waist, with her hair held back in a messy ponytail and not a trace of makeup on her face, Fitz could attest that a fuming Jemma Simmons was a force to reckon with.

Surely, Fitz was enjoying this more than he had any right to. Especially when he and Jemma were lying in bed close together with Jemma's fluffy comforter up to their waists and her hand firmly clasped in his.

The opening sequence of Raiders of the Lost Ark was as impressive as his childhood memories could attest, and the unmistakable theme song sounded as excitingly epic as ever. Shortly after those few moments of nostalgic bliss, though, Fitz had watched Jemma's mood sour and her temper flare up at a steady pace.

She scoffed in outrage as Indiana Jones addressed a classroom full of dolled up female students who appeared only moderately interested in Turkdean's neolithic barrow, intent as they were on catching the eye of their Professor. Which, Jemma was quick to point out, was a shame: this was a lecture she would have blithely attended.

Her irritation spiked again when Marion snapped from tenaciously resentful to unambiguous flirt. As the movie progressed, Jemma's grip on Fitz's hand gradually strengthened to the point of becoming slightly painful. He didn't mind one bit. The way her breath caught each time she took offense was enough to make his heartbeat erratic.

"This is outrageous," she proclaimed, about halfway through the movie. "The _monkey's_ shown more respect than Marion!"

"Hey, leave the monkey out of it," Fitz scolded, doing his best to contain his glee. "It's not the monkey's fault!"

"Really, Fitz? You're gonna side with the _monkey_?" With her cheeks tinted pink and her eyes sending sparks, she was magnificent.

"Of course I am!" He replied will all the seriousness he could muster. "Have you seen his little vest?"

Jemma chuckled at his quip, unable to hold on to her indignation.

"Riling me up, Dr Fitz?"

"Who, me? I'd _never_ ," he claimed pompously, a hand on his heart.

She playfully punched his shoulder before grabbing his hand to wrap it around her shoulder, nestling herself against his side in the process. This was becoming a habit, he noted delightedly. It was the third evening in a row they spent together, adjusting to their recovered closeness, physical and otherwise.

For now, Fitz could feel heat radiating from her fingers on his stomach, when her hand had come to rest, all the surrounding muscles clenching with nervous energy.

How would she react if he tried to kiss her again? Even if she wasn't offended, and he was starting to suspect she might well _not_ be, what were the chances he managed to do so without mucking it up? He'd never been a smooth bloke but when it came to romancing Jemma, he was positively klutzy. So many things could go wrong, and he couldn't take the risk of their second kiss being their last.

Fitz was still internally debating the logistics of kissing Jemma when he felt her tense up, as Marion's panicked screams filled the room.

"It doesn't make _any_ sense," Jemma frowned with exasperation. " _He's_ the one who's supposed to be afraid of snakes, _he_ should be the one flailing about like an imbecile, but _no!_ "

"That _does_ seem a bit odd."

"Odd? Uh! What do you think dictates that women in dangerous situations must act like irrational and helpless fools while the rugged, masculine hero stoically endures?"

"Blockbuster conventions? Unavoidable tropes? Writers' laziness?"

"Patriarchy, that's what!" She erupted. "Even though it was previously established that Marion can hold her own, she's robbed of her agency the moment Indiana Jones appears. It's not enough that she's relentlessly objectified–"

"Well, to be fair, Harrison Ford's kinda objectified as well–"

"You can't be serious! Women are showed to admire him, look up to him. Marion's ogled by a Nazi collaborator who's holding her hostage, and that's just one of the many–"

"Jemma–"

"Look, if you'd rather sit at the boys' table, by all means–"

" _Jemma_ ," he repeated, louder this time. "Are you making _me_ a champion for patriarchy?"

"Oh. Of course not," she deflated immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm being silly. It's just– it's depressing, I guess. I had such fond memories of this movie and now… Perhaps we should watch the next one? See if it stands the stand of time any better?"

"Temple of Doom? Mmh, I don't think that's a good idea," he winced, listing in his head the catalogue of things Jemma would rightly find fault with in the first half hour alone.

"Oh," she said again, this time with a note of disappointment. "I guess that's it for tonight, then?"

"But– don't you want to wait around and watch the Nazis melt?"

Fitz's heart sank at the prospect of leaving her so soon. All day, he'd been anticipating the time they would spend alone together and once more, it had felt like little more than a fleeting moment. So brief, in fact, he doubted how he'd ever build up the courage to act on his feelings.

"Not really," she shrugged. "I'd probably end up falling asleep on you again, anyway."

All the more reason to draw out the evening, as far as Fitz was concerned, but Jemma's word was law and he didn't think to insist.

"Night, Jemma," he said, hesitating only a second before pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Goodnight, Fitz," she murmured, her smile dazzling.

***

[Daisy:] All quiet on the nerd front. Looks like they're done fighting. No, wait, he's leaving.

[Hunter:] Nicely done, Mack. You actually managed to make things worse.

[Mack:] Cause your go was such a smashing success, Mr. National Geographic.

[Daisy:] Boys, boys, you're both pretty.

[Hunter:] Your turn, Bob. Make it count.

[Bobbi:] Oh don't worry about that. I think a little shock therapy's in order.


	4. Audition

"Are you sure it doesn't ring a bell?" Bobbi asked with her best game face on. "I'm positive you and I talked about Takashi Miike before."

"I'm fairly certain I've never heard of him," Jemma replied.

"Really? Oh, you _need_ to watch this, then. On the surface, it's a gritty drama about a widower looking for love, but what it's really about is the treatment of women in patriarchal Japan. It's really something. Hey, you know who'd probably like it, too?"

"Mmh, I have an inkling." Jemma's brow furrowed. Why was everybody so interested in their entertainment program, lately?

 

"Did you just do what I think you did?" Hunter asked, aghast.

Bobbi's response was a satisfied, slightly smug smile and an eyebrow wiggle.

"But– _Why?_ " He asked with genuine puzzlement. "Do we hate the kids, now? What have they _done_ to you?"

"Oh, relax. It will help. I _think_ ," Bobbi amended.

"No, it won't. You could at least have warned them properly. It's the most disturbing shit I've ever seen!"

"I _know_. I remember when we watched it together. You were so distraught by the end, I had to take your mind off things. And I did. Several times. Or have you forgotten that part?"

"I don't– _Ooh_."

***

Jemma and Fitz were recoiling as far away from the screen as the room would allow while holding the comforter high above their head to block out the view. It was still not enough, though. There _had_ to be something they could do about the sound.

Deadeningly slow at first, the movie had taken a very abrupt and quite radical turn into horror territory along the way, when the sweet, innocent young woman from the beginning had revealed her true psychopathic colors. She'd then set about to fight against misogynistic abuse with a rather extreme form of retaliation, which involved paralyzing drugs, quite a bit of maiming and the heavy use of a butter slicer.

"Can you reach the remote?" Jemma asked in a rather shrilly voice. "Put it on mute?"

"Why don't we just –stop?" Fitz wondered aloud as he felt around the nightstand, raising his voice to cover the mixing sounds of screams and demented baby-talk.

"Stop? What do you mean, stop?"

"Do we really _have_ to watch it till the end?"

"Oh. You make a very good point," Jemma replied, relief coursing through her. She hadn't even considered that option. It might have been the most brilliant idea Fitz had ever had.

Suddenly, the shrieking stopped and the screen turned to black, although Jemma could still hear the woman's voice in her head. They let the cover fall back down and by their own accord, their eyes resumed staring at the now dark screen.

"So, that was something," Fitz said after a while, breaking the horrified silence that had fallen on the room.

"What was Bobbi thinking?" Jemma asked, her disbelief plainly audible in her voice.

"Beats me," he shrugged. "It feels as if it would take several hours straight of baby monkey videos to undo all that– stuff," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the screen. "And not just any baby monkey, either. We're talking gorilla, at least, maybe even orangutan."

"I know what you mean. I very much feel like I need something to cheer me up as well. Some kind of distraction, I don't know what–"

She looked at him inadvertently as the idea formed in her head of a possible activity they might engage in to restore her good mood. At the same moment, Fitz's eyes flicked to her, his expression quite stormy and perhaps slightly alarmed.

They both looked away quickly, allowing the silence to settle once more.

"I don't suppose…" Fitz started self-consciously. "Did you ever get around to watching Doctor Who's new season? I mean, since you were– away, when it aired."

"I haven't, actually. Is it good?"

"I don't know," he shrugged with a half smile. "I haven't seen it yet. It didn't feel right to watch it without you."

"Oh." Why was she even surprised? Of course he hadn't watched it without her. As far as she knew, he'd spent months wandering the world, risking his life every other day, in his quest to find her. Surely, that left little time for quality television. Besides, Doctor Who was very much _their_ show. The reboot had debuted when they were both attending the Academy and since then, they'd watched every single episode together, endlessly debating the merits of each Doctor and companion, when they weren't arguing to their wit's end over the actual usefulness of a sonic screwdriver.

As she stared back into uncertain blue eyes, Jemma was submersed with a wave of affection and gratitude for the man who'd so stubbornly refused to give up on her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he would have forsaken the show altogether if she'd never made it back, but of course she couldn't. It would have been a breach to the list of topics they didn't discuss together by tacit agreement. That list was quite lengthy.

"I guess we could watch the first episode?" She offered instead.

 

When Jemma was jerked awake by the blaring sound of the closing theme, she found she was all but wrapped around Fitz, with her arm clasped to his side and her head on his chest. He was so comfortable, she was tempted to feign sleep until she fell back in it.

"I'm sorry to inform you that you've missed some of Missy's best retorts to date," he said, seeing right through her.

"Too bad," she replied, mirroring his grin with her own tired smile. "Did the Doctor kill Davros?"

"No, he saved him of course."

" _Of course_ ," she concurred.

"So, uh, tomorrow's Sunday. Well, today, now, I guess."

"Is it?" Jemma asked, unsure where he was leading with that.

"Yeah. Do you want to marathon the rest of the season in the morning?"

"Oh, I'd love to!" She answered, instantly enthusiastic. Doctor Who marathons were a long held ritual, a reward of sort after exams and exhausting missions. After the year they'd had, it felt as if they'd earned it and then some.

"I'll bring tea and crackers, as per tradition," he assured her with a knowing nod.

"And I'll make sandwiches," she promised, "so I'll stand a chance of hearing the dialogue over the sound of your gurgling stomach."

"Hey," he protested, "it's not my fault if TV marathons are long and famishing. That's why they're called marathons."

Jemma rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around his neck on a whim and pulling him into a tight hug before he could get up.

"Goodnight, Fitz," she said against his neck.

"Night, Jemma," he muttered, melting into her hug.

***

[Daisy:] I would like to point out that 1. no significant progress was made that I can tell and  
2\. I now suffer from PTSD from what sipped through the wall alone. Thank you very much, B.

[Hunter:] Yeah, got anything to say for yourself, Bob?

[Bobbi:] Oh shut up, you.


	5. Doctor Who marathon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been... a while. I'm really sorry about that. I intend to wrap this one up soon-ish.  
> Thanks to Raptorlindsay for beta-reading this chapter.

Fitz had been awake for a long time when his phone vibrated with a message from Jemma.

"I'm awake", it read. "Ready when you are."

The kitchen was still deserted when he turned on the kettle and started buttering toasts. He took his time garnishing a tea tray with two steamy cups and as many treats as he could fit, and a few fresh fruits for Jemma's benefit. As he turned to leave, May entered the kitchen, a dvd box in her hand.

"Fitz," she greeted with a short nod. "It's awfully early for you." May rose an eyebrow in a way that could be either mocking or assessing– Fitz often had trouble correctly reading her.

"Hi," Fitz answered, his eyes flicking between the senior agent and what was starting to look like a proper biscuit fort. "Yeah, I– Simmons and I are catching up on Doctor Who. Making a day of it, actually.”

"I see," May nodded, looking suddenly quite thoughtful. "Have a good one, then." Fitz gave a brief nod of acknowledgment before carefully picking up his tray and moving quickly out of the kitchen, brushing past Hunter as he walked away.

 

"That was _cold_ ," Hunter chuckled from the doorstep. "You didn't even get a chance to pitch your–" When he took in May's expression, he immediately sobered up. "I mean, that was cold... Ma'am?"

"I've got it," Bobbi cut in, appearing behind Hunter and wrapping an arm around his middle. She gave May a small nod before pulling her ex-husband away.

***

By the time Fitz knocked on Jemma's bedroom door, balancing the heavy tray in one hand and a freshly updated flash drive in the other, his nervousness had gone completely off the charts. Jemma's smile was so bright when she welcomed him in that his mouth dried up before he could get a word out.

"You brought breakfast," she beamed, grabbing the tray from him and setting it down on the bed, while Fitz made a conscious effort not to stare at all the freckled skin peeking out from beneath her tank top.

"Yeah, well...I said I would, so….here I am. With breakfast. That I brought," he rambled, gesturing vaguely at the tray. _Get it together, man._ "If there's anything else you want–"

"It looks perfect," she said, and wrapped her hand around his forearm. "Shall we start?"

 

Once breakfast was finished, Jemma set the tray aside and nestled into his side. Fitz tried to will his heart into keeping a steady rhythm, for fear she might notice that the casual touches they'd shared daily for so long now agitated him more than he was comfortable admitting.

Jemma raised her head, her smile small and tentative. "Are you comfortable?

"Yeah, yeah, I'm– fine," Fitz answered, his eyebrows drawing together.

"It's just that you seem a bit tense."

"I'm just tired, that’s all," he replied with a timid smile of his own.

It wasn’t a lie. He'd certainly had a hard time sleeping the previous night, waking up every other hour with anticipation and dread battling in his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was _it_ – the moment to either figure things out and see if their friendship might venture into the uncharted territory of something more, or to let go of that fleeting hope entirely. Let it pass and it would be _gone_ , probably for good this time. And if Fitz was honest with himself, neither of them had a particularly good track record of seizing the day.

While he’d tossed and turned, Fitz couldn't help replaying the memory of the past four evenings in his head. They'd been lying so close together, and she'd held his hand– multiple times. What did it _mean_? Or rather, did it mean _anything_? They'd spent countless evenings in a similar manner during their Academy and Sci-Ops years. Why did it have to be so bloody confusing? He almost longed for the old days, when he was so damn good at repressing any feeling for her that exceeded the realm of friendship.

As the episode played on, Fitz was too acutely aware of her body snuggling into him to pay any attention to what was happening on the screen– something about an underwater base, a team being hunted by a monster and a star crossed couple. _That’s all just a bit too close to home, isn’t it?_ He mused to himself. But Jemma was warm and soft and pliant against him and it would take very little to close the space between them– if he only turned his head a little to the right…

Not that he would. They were starting over and everything was so uncertain– the one thing he was sure of was that he would take his cue from her. And for now, she seemed happy to lie there with him, her head resting on his shoulder and her arm around his waist, and there were a lot of worse ways to spend a Sunday morning.

 

One episode turned into four, and by the time the Doctor faced the meek viking girl he inadvertently turned into a hardened immortal, Fitz could feel Jemma's spine growing rigid.

"Can you imagine?" Jemma asked suddenly and her voice was so wobbly Fitz shifted to his side to face her. "Losing the people you love, grieving for them for lifetimes until– until you forget everything but the pain of mourning them?"

"No," he replied softly. "I can't imagine– forgetting." _You. I can't fathom forgetting you._ His hand moved of its own accord, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before it came to rest on her cheek.

Jemma nodded, her amber eyes shining. "I didn't forget. Even when I thought–" She cleared her throat and her voice broke. "Even after–"

"I know," he breathed, touching his forehead to hers. "I know you didn't."

"I've missed you so much." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and it felt like they teetering on the edge of something– or about to jump off a cliff, hand in hand.

Ignoring the mad pounding of his heart, Fitz nuzzled gently against her cheek, trying his best to commit to memory the softness of her skin, the flowery fragrance of her shampoo, the warmth of her breath against his chin. He felt suspended in a state of hyperawareness, every one of his senses saturated with _her,_ their lips barely an inch away.

But before he could summon the courage to do something about it, his phone started buzzing obnoxiously, tearing through the charged silence for a moment before her own phone began vibrating across her bedside table. They groaned in unison.

When he moved back a fraction of an inch and met her gaze, her expression of thorough consternation was almost comical.

"Must we really?" she asked, sounding entirely dismayed.

"If we don't, they'll find us," he replied with a barely-there smirk.

Jemma huffed a long-suffering sigh as she sat up before aggressively pressing the key to pick up the call. "Sir–" she said as she picked up the phone. Her eyes darted back to him. "Yes, he's with me…"

***

[Daisy] UGH, SO CLOSE.

[Mack] Anything?

[Hunter] He still hasn't shown her his sonic screwdriver, has he?

[Daisy] Nope, and if I have to listen to that theme song one more time,  
I'll have no choice but to quake this building to dust.

[Bobbi] So I guess it's May's turn now.

[Mack] That should be interesting.


End file.
